


As snow falls, so I fall

by adelaide_rain



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After inception, Arthur and Eames relax in front of a roaring fire while the snow falls outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As snow falls, so I fall

Snow always seemed magical to Eames when he was a kid. It snowed so rarely that he used to stare up at it as it drifted down softly, gracefully – at least until his brother tackled him into a snow bank.

England never had snow like this. As Eames gazes out of the bay window he can just make out the trees on the other side of the lake. The blizzard has eased but huge flakes of white still obscure the view, swirling in front of the glass like doves in flight. His inner child wants to run outside, mark the pristine moonlit whiteness with his footprints.

But it’s warm in the cabin. The fire in the grate provides the only light, painting everything with an orangey tint, casting deep, flickering shadows everywhere. It’s the only sound, too, muted roars and crackles as flame consumes the wood.

It’s a complete contrast from the inception job. Eames still feels on edge, a little; the prickle of expectation makes his little fingers itch. No doubt Arthur chose this location precisely because Eames’s dream involved snowfields – the man has a twisted sense of humour – but Eames is relaxing, slowly.

At hearing the door creak open, Eames turns to see Arthur walk in, two mugs in his hands. He’s wearing jeans and the chunky-knit sweater Eames made him for his last birthday. It’s a level of casual that’s rarely seen and it always makes warmth well in Eames’s chest. He drops the curtain and goes over to Arthur, taking one of the mugs from him and breathing in deeply. Chocolate mixes with cinnamon and the buttery alcoholic scent of rum. Taking a sip, he finds that it tastes as good as it smells. Sighing happily, he kisses Arthur’s cheek and pulls him down onto the sofa.

In the firelight, Arthur’s eyes are even darker than normal, his fine bone structure brought into relief. Eames leans in to kiss him, tastes rum and spices. Arthur smiles with a softness that’s just for Eames.

“You want to watch a movie?”

Eames nods in acquiescence, watches Arthur take a long, serious look at their collection of films before selecting one, putting it in the player then sitting back down, settling with his back against Eames’s chest.

As Eames slides a hand around Arthur’s waist, he thinks how perfect this moment is. All his life he’s been happiest when he’s in the middle of the action; on a con or in the middle of a forgery. But at some point since he met Arthur, sappiness sunk under his skin like a tattoo.

While he still loves the excitement of a job going right, craves the adrenaline rush, one simple truth underlies everything else: no matter where he is or what he’s doing, all he needs to be happy is Arthur.


End file.
